


The First Gift of Christmas

by WhiteRoseOfRivendell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Nervous Dean, Polar Express - freeform, Sam is the Captain of our ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:14:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21945676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteRoseOfRivendell/pseuds/WhiteRoseOfRivendell
Summary: The Polar Express has been a holiday favorite for many, many years, but can its magic make one hunter’s Christmas wish come true?
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 48





	The First Gift of Christmas

It was Christmas Eve and Dean lay quietly in his bed. He did not rustle the sheets. He breathed slowly and silently. He was awaiting a sound, one that he thought he would never be so anxious to hear; the tolling of the clock that announced the 6 o’clock hour.

Cas said he would be home by then, if the GPS was correct. Once he was home, everything would be set in motion. Dean knew he was ready, but could not stop the butterflies from rapidly fluttering in his stomach. A night, long-awaited, was about to begin.

***

“All set?”

Sam Winchester gaily walked into the kitchen as Dean pulled the Jiffy Pop from the burner. He watched as Dean gingerly broke open the hot foil and tipped the pan into a large, silver bowl.

“Look at that, perfect popcorn!” Dean responded, rubbing his hands and turning back to the stove top.

Sam nodded to himself in silent acknowledgement of Dean’s indubitable anxiety and comically forced nonchalance. It was understandable though. He began the conversation again, this time taking a more circular approach, “So, Eileen and I are going to head out in a minute. She found out about a neighborhood near town that lines their streets with luminaries. A lot of the houses are decorated too. She really likes seeing the lights. It’s weird how we never knew about it before, in all the years that we have been here, but it sounds like fun. So, you know, we won’t be back for a while...” he rambled.

“Uh-huh,” Dean mumbled as he meandered around the kitchen, opening cabinets and straightening counter-bound items.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?” He replied distractedly.

“Dean!”

The older Winchester stopped like a kid caught mid-caper. He stood, shifting from one foot to the other as he looked at his brother and then on to anywhere else his eyes could possibly go.

“Dean,” Sam started once more; he walked over to his brother and took him by the shoulders, “You have to calm down. You’re a step ahead of a fit.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Sammy, I’m fine. And what are you, 60? A step ahead of a fit?” He scoffed and walked back to the center island. He picked up the bowl of popcorn, threw a few pieces into his mouth, and headed out the door, “I am _not_ nervous.”

“Uh-huh, and who said anything about being nervous?” Sam smiled mischievously, “Jerk.”

Dean stopped in the doorway and turned. He narrowed his eyes, “Bitch.” 

Then he disappeared around the corner.

***

Castiel had not thought it odd when Dean had asked him to watch a movie with him on Christmas Eve. The three, now four, of them often had movie nights in between cases. At times, those nights had turned into only Dean and Cas finishing up a trilogy or series in the wee hours of the morning. However, on this night when he entered the Dean Cave, he found no Sam and no Eileen to begin with. The TV was on and queuing up to the movie’s main menu. Dean sat on the couch, a bowl of fresh, and partially eaten, popcorn on his lap.

“Where are Sam and Eileen?”

Dean jumped, spilling a few kernels onto the crimson blanket beside him, “Cas! Uh...” he hastily began picking up the pieces of popcorn, trying desperately to keep his hands from shaking, “They, uh, went to see some Christmas lights, some special thing that Eileen found. So, it’s just you and me,” he smiled awkwardly. 

Cas looked at him. He did not care that they would be alone watching the movie; in fact, that was a bit of good news as far as he was concerned. However, Dean was acting strange and he could not put his finger on what was off about him. He decided that, for all intents and purposes, the best course of action was to ignore it and hope Dean normalized once the movie began. Cas had observed that sometimes when Dean was not himself, having someone by his side was all that he needed to feel better.

He walked over and sat down on the couch next to Dean, taking care to sit next to him, but not overtly close, “What was it again that you wanted me to see?”

“The Polar Express.”

“It is a children’s movie then,” Cas stated, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“Well, yeah, but it’s actually pretty good,” Dean responded, “Don’t judge.”

Cas gave a small, amused smile, “I am not judging. It’s just not the normal kind of movie that you pick out.”

Dean shrugged, “It’s nostalgic. It reminds me of fourth grade, the part that I went to anyway. I had a teacher, Mrs. Salazar; she read the book to us right before Christmas. It was the first time I had ever heard the story. It’s about a boy who rides a train to the North Pole on Christmas Eve to meet Santa. I mean, I knew it was all BS, but I just always thought how cool that would be if it were real, you know? Or even if I was able to believe, like the other kids,” He looked down at the bowl of popcorn in his lap, embarrassed at the childish confession, “Anyway, we left town soon after that. When Christmas rolled around the next year, I saw a copy of the book in a store window. I didn’t have any money, of course, and the old man would have laughed me out of the room if I had asked for something like that, so I stole it. I brought it home and read it to Sam on Christmas Eve. It kinda became our thing. Even when the holidays weren’t so merry and bright, we had that, every year.”

Cas smiled, “Sounds like a wonderful story.”

Dean blushed and murmured in agreement. He picked up the remote and pressed play, sneaking one more look at Castiel before forcing himself to turn his attention to the screen.

The pair watched the movie in its entirety, and if they wound up in closer quarters as the scenes moved past, well, neither of them felt obligated to mention it. When it was over, and the popcorn and beer long gone, they paused in the contentment that was each other’s company. 

“What did you think?” Dean asked.

“I enjoyed it. Though I do not understand why a boy would run away in the middle of the night to board a phantom locomotive. It does not seem like a wise decision.”

“He’s a kid, Cas. It’s a train to the North Pole. Sometimes even grown ups take stupid risks for something they really want,” Dean paused. The weight of the statement began to bear down upon him and he was reminded of his own impending gamble, “Haven’t you ever wanted something so much that you made a dumb decision in the hopes it might actually come true?”

Cas smiled, “You know I have,” he looked at Dean from under his brow, “Much to the chagrin of my companions, I’m afraid.”

Dean laughed, “Can’t argue with that,” he playfully nudged Castiel with his shoulder. To his surprise, Cas nudged back. It was a little harder than expected, but it reminded him of Castiel’s true power and strength. That reminder set off a flicker of warmth in his chest, among other areas.

“Would you go now?” Cas asked, breaking the hazy silence, “To the North Pole?”

Dean thought a moment, “If the Polar Express showed up outside my door? Probably. Compared to what we normally deal with, Santa’s Workshop doesn’t seem like that big of a risk.”

Cas looked at him meaningfully, “There is a lot these days that no longer seems like such a big risk.”

Dean sucked in a breath, “Yeah, I...I suppose not.”

And that is where the conversation ended. After a few moments of charged silence, that could actually have encompassed an entire conversation in and of itself if it were judged by the eye contact, the two arose from the sofa and called it a night. 

Dean walked away, headed down the hall toward his room, but suddenly stopped as he thought he heard Cas say something over his shoulder. He turned.

“What?”

Cas cupped his hands around his mouth and said a little louder, “Merry Christmas!”

Then he left Dean with a wink and a smile.

***

On Christmas morning, Sam, Dean, Cas, and Eileen opened their presents with joy and laughter. When it looked as if everything had been unwrapped, Cas found one last small box behind the tree. It had his name on it.

He checked the tag more closely as his companions looked on, “It doesn’t say who it is from...”

“It doesn’t have to,” Dean answered.

He walked over from where he was leaning against the wall and sat down next to Castiel. The brightly lit Christmas tree bathed them in a warm glow as the scent of pine needles and cinnamon rolls wrapped the room in a blanket of holiday nostalgia. Sam sat on the couch, sprawled out with Eileen in his lap. She snuggled into him and gave a knowing look. Sam gave her a loving squeeze in return. They smiled to each other, then turned their attention back to the pair.

“Open it,” Dean urged.

Cas pulled at the red ribbon tied around the silver box. It came off easily, but when he tried to open the lid, Dean put his hand over it.

“Wait, Cas,” he paused, “I got this for you, but if you don’t want it, I mean...if it’s not what you want, then...”

“Dean,” Cas looked him straight in the eye, “shut up and let me open it.” He grinned.

Sam and Eileen giggled.

Dean relented, an anxious smile on his face. He sat back and allowed the angel to open his Christmas gift.

Inside the box lay a small silver bell with a brown, leather strap tied to it. Cas’ face lit up with recognition, “The first gift of...” 

He was stopped short then, his breath gone in an instant. While picking up the bell, he noticed a shinning gold band strung along its side. It made the bell jingle as he examined it slowly. His face fell.

Dean’s heart fell with it. That was not the reaction he had imagined. Though, he had imagined this moment so many times that he thought perhaps he had just forgotten that possibility. Maybe he had just forced it from his mind. But whatever the reason, the box was open, the plan irrevocably put in motion. It was now or never, and Dean had to know for sure. It was with these thoughts that he pressed on.

“I guess, technically, it’s the last gift of Christmas,” Dean chuckled, “But I was hoping that it might be the first of...I mean,” he stammered, “What I’m trying to say to you is...all I really want is for you to...” he sighed. Too many words. Perhaps not enough. He needed to turn this train around, and fast. Dean moved closer to the angel and once again covered his hand with his own. Full steam ahead. 

“Marry me, Cas.”

That is when the air left the room.

Dean gazed at Castiel with a lingering hope that the look he was giving him was that of surprise or disbelief. However, it was a look that Dean had never seen before. It was so forceful in its stillness that it could have been mistaken for distress. But the growing smile parting Cas’ lips, as well as the fervid embrace that followed, soon dashed any doubts of what his answer to the posed question would be.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

***

The rest of that Christmas, and many since, were spent with warm fires and warmer embraces, Brandy Alexanders and soft gazes. Through the silent halls of the bunker, the carols of Bing Crosby and Gene Autry could be heard. They sated the proverbial ghosts of Christmas past, convincing them that they were no longer needed by this particular quartet. But of course, no year would be complete if a certain book was not pulled out and read on the Eve. The book that gave one hunter the hope and the courage to get what he truly wanted for Christmas, the love of an angel.

From that day on, Dean Winchester believed in the miracles that he had heard about so many times, but never felt could be a part of his life. Castiel Winchester allowed his complete faith to be restored by the beautiful jingling bell. It served as a reminder to him of how important it is to believe, and keep on believing, in something; in anything. And that lovely, little silver bell was the symbol of his beloved, who he believed in above all else. 

Many times, the couple would look upon the bell as it lay on their bedside table and remember the day that it first rang for them, many, many years ago.


End file.
